Connecting the Unconnected
by JustCallMeMarly
Summary: UNDETERMINED HIATUS: Det. Mac Taylor's theory is that everything is connected even if the degrees of separation are almost indistinguishable. Doubting the theory could end up fatal...
1. Prologue

**A/N: I'm taking a stab at a longer CSI:NY piece. I really hope it doesn't suck (crosses fingers). I tend to start something and lose interest if it doesn't seem to be working out or if the plot train derails. ****So, wish**** me (and**** the**** plot**** train****) luck****…**

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Connecting the Unconnected

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_Somewhere__ in the__ city__…_

There was a reason that they always said to never make it personal. Especially when the big names wanted the mark gone and they were willing to pay big money for it. He'd had two other hits this week. And this third… the third was to throw the scent off of what was really happening. It was a smart plan, really, to throw in another one just for the hell of it. And considering that the other two hits had yet to be found… it made his job all the easier. No pressure. He would get to watch for a while. He would get to play...


	2. 1

* * *

Detective Mac Taylor stood next to his partner, Detective Stella Bonasera, as they watched their latest case walk away with the officer. 

"Another one for the books," she muttered. Then, she looked to her partner. "You okay?" This last case had hit particularly hard for Mac – an ex-Marine had killed another young Marine. The crime had been brutal, meticulous in its execution and would have probably slipped to the cold case files if it hadn't been for one small, miniscule slip-up that Mac's own Marine training allowed him to recognize.

It had taken many sleepless nights for the two crime scene investigators in a three week period to finally close the case. Many of those sleepless nights had been simply chatting over beer to purge their minds of the scenario that seemed to run a loop in their brains.

"I'm fine. Just glad this one's over," he said as they walked back to his office. Stella looked at her watch.

"Almost quittin' time. Wanna grab a beer after?" she asked. Mac smiled slightly as he shook his head.

"Nah. After this case, my liver's itching to jump out of my body and start picketing in protest," he said. Stella scrunched up her nose.

"Lovely image…" she commented. Mac chuckled.

"I think I'm just going to go home and try to forget how some people in this world can take things too far…" he said while slipping his suit jacket over his arms.

"You're too easy on people. The human race is a lot more messed up to just explain it away so easily…" she said. Then, she stepped closer to him and took the task of loosening his tie for him.

"Go home. You deserve it, Boss," she said. "As for me, I'm going to see if I can rope Aiden or Danny into helping me drown my memory of the past few weeks." With that, she turned and headed out the door.

"Goodnight," he called after her. She turned with a smile and a wave.

"Watch the cooking channel," she said. "It's mindless, yet interesting. It'll take your mind off of anything!"

Mac smiled as he tidied up his desk for the night. When he looked up again, he saw Stella corralling Aiden, Danny, lack, and even Sheldon towards the door. Mac let out another chuckle. He couldn't help but admire the easy camaraderie that Stella seemed to possess. With that last thought, he locked up his office and went home to watch the cooking channel.

* * *

_1:39am..._

Stella let out a sigh as she let herself into her apartment. She'd stayed out too late and now she was destined to be cranky tomorrow at work. She shouldn't have let Flack talk her into that last game of pool.

She flipped on the lights and made her way to her bedroom shedding coat, sweater and shoes along the way. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and not open her eyes until she absolutely had to. The bed remained unmade from her early morning rush to get to work. She loved to sleep until the last possible minute – it was more for the fact that she never knew when she'd get to sleep again that day than anything else. It was a job hazard. She took after Mac in the regard that they sometimes let the job rule their life. Sleeping and eating fell along the wayside if there happened to be a particularly grueling case.

It took all the willpower she possessed to not just hop under the covers and close her eyes. Instead, she went through her bedtime ritual and prepared her things for the morning. If she didn't do it at that moment, she'd never make it to work on time in the morning. After the last thing was put in order, Stella pulled the covers down and straightened the pillows. Then she went to the window to let in a little fresh air. It was one of her many idiosyncrasies… she had to have flowing air in order to sleep. She frowned when she found the window open. The plant she'd placed in front of it must have tipped in the wind, spilling dirt onto the carpeting. She must have left it open in her morning rush. Not untypical of her. With a shrug, she closed the window slightly due to the coolness of the evening and then hopped onto the mattress. A smile crossed her face as she burrowed under the covers. The last thought she had before she slipped off was of Mac and the cooking channel.

* * *

Her eyes shot open as if something had awakened her, but a quick glance at her clock told her that she had twenty minutes before her alarm was scheduled to go off. Stella frowned as she threw back the comforter and wearily made her way to the kitchen. There was an uneasy feeling crawling up her spine and she wasn't sure why. Rather than dwell on it, she shrugged it off and went to start her morning coffee. That task complete, she padded barefoot into the living room and flipped on the television. 

"… police chase turned fatal in the early morning hours. NYPD will not release the names of the three victims until a full investigation has been completed. Now… in other news this morning…" the announcer said as he transitioned into personal interest. Stella shook her head as she switched it off.

"Great… night shift run-off. Good morning, New York," she grumbled, making her way back to the kitchen for her coffee.

Usually, the quiet of her apartment relaxed and calmed her as she leaned back against the counter and sipped at what Mac often called 'a dose of enough caffeine that could equal electrical shock.' Today, though, the quiet was a bit unsettling and she couldn't pinpoint as to why. Her mind wandered back and forth on this subject for a few moments until her alarm clock broke the silence, startling the daylights out of her.

"Shit!" she cried as the coffee she'd put up to her lips left a scalding trail down her chin and onto her white tank top. Picking up a napkin while muttering a few choice curses, she wiped the liquid off of herself and began to blot the stain. The sudden ring of her cell phone caused her grip on her coffee mug to slip. The mug hit the hardwood floor and shattered, glass and coffee scattering everywhere.

"God _damn_ it," she cried to no one. Rather than scramble around to clean the mess, she hopped over the casualty and went to pick up the phone.

"What?" she answered it grumpily.

"Bad morning?" Mac's voice greeted her. Stella closed her eyes and counted to ten. It would do her no good to be pissy with her partner.

"Slightly," she said, eyeing her destroyed coffee mug for a second. "What's going on?"

"Flack and I are about to head over to your side of town. Can you meet us at Quincy and Kent in twenty minutes?" he asked.

"You're starting early this morning. Don't you ever go home?" she asked.

"Stell…" he started.

"Right, right. Stupid question… How's Flack's hangover?" she asked.

"Hopefully, for his sake, gone," he answered. Stella smiled.

"Okay…" she said, bringing the conversation back to where it originated. "Quincy and Kent. That's only three blocks from here," she said.

"I know," Mac said. "Twenty minutes?"

"See you in twenty," Stella confirmed before hanging up.

Mac's call gave her the burst of energy that the coffee never had a chance to accomplish. It took her a moment to clean up the mess in the kitchen and head off to get ready for what was looking like a long day. Ten minutes later, hair pinned back and dressed in a crisp, practical outfit, she headed out the door with her kit.

The day was grayer than it had appeared in her apartment. With a sigh, Stella started the walk towards the meeting point.

"Hey, Stella!" a familiar voice called to her. "Off to save the world again?" She waved to the man just exiting the building next to hers. Sandy-haired Roderick Schumann met her at the bottom of the stairs and immediately fell into stride with her.

"Only you, Roddy, would classify the tedious work of a New York CSI as 'saving the world'," she said. Roddy smiled.

"You're the only one I know with such an exciting job," he told her. Stella grinned.

"You obviously don't know many people then. Most of the time, it's boring procedure," she said. Roddy held up his briefcase with a look.

"Not to a claims adjuster," he said before laughing. Stella chuckled.

"You've got your own brand of excitement, I'm sure," she told him. Roddy turned the corner to the subway entrance and noticed that she was not doing the same.

"Not riding in today?" he asked.

"Nope. I'm meeting my partner. Work started early this morning," she said as she waved to him.

"Scum never sleeps!" he called back before he disappeared down the stairs. Stella shook her head with a smile as she continued walking. When she reached the area, she made out the bright yellow crime scene tape blocking an alleyway entrance to the gawking public. Mac had yet to arrive, so she walked purposefully over to where three police officers stood.

"Detective Bonasera, criminalistics…" she said, approaching them while flashing the badge attached to her belt. "Whadda we got?" One of the officers lifted the tape for her to walk into the alleyway.

"The body was found about an hour ago by a morning garbage man. It was tucked away behind the dumpster," he said, pointing to the specified object.

"No identification, no witnesses," the other officer said.

"This is New York – the city that never sleeps. Someone had to see something. I find it hard to believe that the NYC busybodies took a night off for the first time in a million years," she said as she set her kit on the ground. Mac would have the camera with him, so she'd have to wait to start taking crime scene photos… but that didn't mean she couldn't look around.

The place was obviously a dump site. The girl – young, from the look of her – had her throat sliced practically ear to ear and there was no blood that Stella could see. Hopefully, there would be clues that would lead them to the primary crime scene. She'd have to wait for Mac to start the search in earnest.

Due to finding the body, the garbage man lucky enough to have pulled this route on this particular morning had been unable to complete his run. With a deep breath, Stella stood on tiptoe and peered into the dumpster using her gloved hands to hold her steady. There didn't seem to be anything obviously unseemly, but that would be confirmed after they sifted through all the contents later.

"Stella," Mac's voice called, echoing slightly among the buildings. "You shouldn't be back here without backup…" Stella frowned as she turned to look at him.

"I'm not…" she started, but found she _was_ by herself with exception to Mac's presence. "…alone…" He smiled slightly as he pulled on his own pair of gloves.

"So… find anything?" he asked, knowing her well enough to know her curiosity and impatience already had her looking over the scene. He handed her the camera bag and she immediately reached into her kit and pulled out the yellow number placards.

"The only thing I can conclude is that this can't be the primary crime scene. For an arterial laceration, there's not nearly enough blood. It's highly probable that, since the throat is cut, Jane Doe here died of blood loss," Stella noted as she set up a number next to the body and snapped the first picture.

"And look…" Stella continued, drawing Mac's eyes to where she was pointing. "There's a lack of defense wounds…" Mac stepped closer to the dead woman and looked closely at her bare arms.

"Let's let Sheldon confirm that. But from first look that means she either knew her attacker or didn't see the attack coming," he said. Stella looked up at him.

"Or both…" she said. Mac's shoulders dropped slightly.

"Well, that doesn't help us at all, does it?" he asked. Stella smiled before going back to the pictures.

"Where's Flack?" she asked.

"Talking to the waste management personnel," he told her as he started sifting through the garbage near the body. Stella looked at him with a frown.

"The garbage man?" she asked.

"He was touchy about that," Mac said, not looking up from his task. Stella let out a snort, causing him to look up at her.

"In my world, pink is pink no matter who's wearing it, a lie is a lie no matter how white it is or how morally ambiguous society has become… and a garbage man is a garbage man," she said, snapping another picture. Mac smiled.

"Well, you wouldn't make it in fashion, politics, or…" he said while lifting a small bloody piece of plastic. "… the fine art of treasure hunting…" Stella smirked.

"I guess what they say is true. One man's garbage _is_ another man's treasure…"

* * *

_Across the city..._

"I don't think the dead body's going anywhere," Danny Messer told the woman driving the Suburban through morning traffic. Aiden Burn just smirked as she swerved in front of a semi truck. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as they narrowly squeezed between two more cars.

"If you're not careful, Mac and Stella will be coming to _our_ scene," he muttered, pushing his glasses up on his nose slightly since they'd fallen forward at her sudden stop.

"You wanted me to drive because you knew I'd get us there quickly," she told him. Danny rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah, quickly is all fine and good, but quickly and in one piece is better…" he said as she gunned the accelerator and the SUV took off with a jolt. She smirked again.

"Always wanting more, aren't you?" she asked. Danny shrugged.

"I don't think it's unreasonable to have a few standards…" he said with a smirk all his own.

"You consider staying alive a standard?" she asked as she turned down the desired street. She parked the vehicle next to the police cruiser that had arrived on scene just a few minutes before them. Danny looked at where the crime scene tape marked off where the body was.

"Don't you? I mean, society _does_ seem to be leaning the other way as of late, but I don't think staying alive is something unfair to expect," he commented as he got out of the SUV and went to collect his kit.

"You're in New York… if you expect anything, you're being unfair. You're a native, you know that," Aiden said as she too picked her kit out of the back seat. Danny smiled.

"Let's compare standards then… Staten Island… Bronx…" he said, lifting his hands as if to weigh the two. Aiden rolled her eyes.

"This argument is pointless anyway because I think life is a right for all people… not a standard to be set…" she said as they walked towards the detectives. He smirked.

"Man, you're in the wrong business…" he said causing her to chuckle, but then he shrugged. "I think it's a right too. But you're in New York… if you expect people to think like that here, you're being unrealistic," he said. When she looked over at him, he smiled innocently at her.

"No pride in the city that you grew up in?" she asked.

"Oh I love NYC. You couldn't pull me away with a pack of rabid dogs. But c'mon... on any given day, a New Yorker would just as soon spit on you as someone…" He paused as he took in the scene and the body that was sprawled across the pavement. "… pushed you off a building… than try to help you."

"You're a cynic with the face of an optimist," Aiden said with a shake of her head. The two of them ducked under the tape and approached the two officers that were talking to the witness.

"I prefer the title realist," he leaned over to mutter to her. She just smiled as one of the officers stepped away, leading them off to the side.

"So, what happened?" Aiden asked the officer.

"Lady in 3B was coming home from work and was about to head into the building when the body fell onto the pavement just behind her," he relayed. Danny stepped over to where the body lay.

"Does she know who he is?" he asked the officer, who pulled out his notepad at the question and opened it.

"Eduardo Ricardo…" he read. "… 4C…"

"Well Eduardo Ricardo of 4C," Danny said as he took out the camera. "What made you decide to try to fly?" Aiden looked around the area and then up the side of the brownstone.

"I guess I'll start at the launch pad…"

* * *

**A/N – That's the first few parts… is it worth it to continue? What do you think?**


	3. 2

**A/N – Thanks to all the reviewers… I appreciate your kind words. I'm glad you like it so far. As I told my best friend, confidant, all around good-egg of a person… this is a plot-driven story more than a character-driven story (but pairings _may_ be evident as time goes on…). Considering I like the latter more than the former, I'd be best described as a fish out of water. I'm branching out in a way I normally don't. So, be cruel to be kind. If**** you don't like**** it****, let**** me know!**

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For a crime scene, it wasn't exactly the most desirable. Aiden took a look around the roof of the building. At eight stories, the apartment complexdidn't particularly'tower' over the New York cityscape. The two buildings standing next to it had about four stories on it. When she'd seen that, she had a few officers trek over to each building and poll the residents to see if they'd seen anything. Hopefully, they'd strike gold.

The witness had told them that she'd heard nothing but the body hit the ground. Aiden looked over the side of the edge of the building and saw the small form of her co-worker snapping the requisite photographs. It was conceivable that the witness couldn't hear a struggle… or a heated conversation… or a silenced gunshot. Dr. Sheldon Hawkes had confirmed a gunshot wound to the now-mangled body. A normal gunshot would have reverberated against the taller building, magnifying the sound slightly. Physics 101. With that thought, Aiden pulled out her cell phone and dialed Danny's number.

"Hey, Danny… before Sheldon carts off the body, look for a silencer burn and let me know what you find," she requested of him before she wished him happy hunting. Pocketing her phone, she turned to look at the brick again. The cement was too porous to lift any usable prints, not that Aiden was sold on the idea that they would get any from the killer.

There were spurts of blood from where the victim bled out before falling to the ground below. Taking a handful of q-tips from her kit, she took samples from each spot. They would all probably come back as the victim's, but the CSI unit was nothing if not thorough. And sometimes, they got lucky. As much as they all – Mac included – hated to admit, luck was always better than nothing.

Aiden's trained eye caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her vision. There, in the barrier where the roof met the brick was a hole. A bullet hole. But that wasn't what intrigued her the most. It was the fact that the hole didn't look pristine. It looked unnaturally distorted, as if someone tried to remove the bullet. Looking around, she didn't notice any casings. There wasn't any evidence of another person being with the victim except the bullet lodged in the building. Taking out her Maglite, she knelt down and looked into the hole. She couldn't see anything, but that wasn't unexpected.

Reaching into her kit, Aiden pulled out a red tracing rod used to distinguish a bullet's trajectory. She inserted it into the hold to find the depth of the bullet. The rod went in about halfway before it met resistance. A smile crossed her features as part of the scene became clearer in her mind.

The victim had been shot at a downward angle, only a few feet from the edge of the building. The victim, who had at least been on his knees at the time of the shooting, had gone over the side of the building in one of two ways – dumped over by the killer, or standing on his own and falling over as he bled out.

Aiden pulled out her phone again.

"Hey Danny… I need you and the camera up here… and bring a chisel and a hammer while you're at it," she said. "I've got a present for ballistics…"

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Stella entered one of the research rooms with a heavy heart. She'd drawn the short stick in her and Mac's little battle of wills against the unpleasant. Seven large bags of garbage sat waiting for her on the table.

"Ugggg…" she said. "Just what I wanted to be doing at lunchtime." With that, she took the first bag and unwound the tie around the opening. Holding her breath, she dumped the contents onto the light table. Making a face, she started picking through the items one by one, taking a look at each to make sure there were no miniscule drops of blood or strands of hair anywhere. If there were, there was a chance they would turn out a no match to the victim. But if there _was_ a match then all the time, effort… and smell… would be worth it to finally give this case some legs.

So, she sat through almost an hour of garbage duty before the smell finally started to make her dizzier than she could deny. She'd only made it through one pile of trash. With a sigh, she started to bag up the garbage she'd finished looking through. As she put the items back in the bag, she took one more cursory look. The beeping of her pager startled her.

"At least I now have an excuse for cutting out of here," she muttered as she read Dr. Hawkes' message. With a smile, Stella closed the bag and placed it in the 'complete' corner of the room and walked out.

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_The morgue…_

"Cause of death… bullet to the head," Sheldon said as Danny and Aiden walked into the morgue. Danny held up his hands.

"Woa... let's not get carried away with all the technical mumbo-jumbo," he said. The medical examiner smiled.

"Actually, it was a single gunshot wound to the back of the neck. You already know that the vic was shot point blank due to the GSR and silencer burn on the skin. The bullet trajectory severed the spine and the carotid artery in one fell swoop. The bullet exited out the lower left cheek, just above the jawbone. Mr. Ricardo was not alive when he hit the ground eight floors below – which is a plus for him," the black man said while stripping off his latex gloves.

"I'd say," Aiden said as she watched Danny lean closer to get a better look at the exit wound.

"Skill or luck?" Danny asked of the shot.

"Both?" Aiden asked back. Her partner sighed.

"Of course… why rule things out to make it easier on us?"

"Before you run away, there was also bruising along Mr. Ricardo's back upper arms and the back of the neck. All consistent with being held down against the back. I've got your pictures here," Sheldon said as he opened the manila folder in his hand. Danny took one of the glossies and looked at the measurements.

"Well, once we get a suspect we have something to compare him or her too," he said.

"It's still early in the case yet. Now you kids move along…" Sheldon said. "I've gotta brief Mac and Stella on their DB." Danny looked at the toe tag of the body on the next table.

"Jane Doe?" he asked. Sheldon nodded.

"That's gotta suck," Danny said. Aiden slapped his hand away from the toe tag.

"Don't go trying to solve Mac's case for brownie points. We've got one of our own," she said. Danny looked to Sheldon and pointed to Aiden.

"This one's a slave driver," he said. "Don't let anyone tell you different." The doctor laughed as Aiden pulled Danny out of the morgue. Once in the hall, they fell into step with one another.

"Okay," Danny said, becoming serious once again. "The severing of the spinal cord tells us he could have only been dumped over the side of that building." Aiden nodded as they turned down the hallway that led to DNA.

"Maybe there's evidence on the victim that we're overlooking since there was an obvious struggle," she said.

"I hate to say it, but you could be right. Let's go over his clothes again," he said, opening the door to the lab.

"That's all you. I've got a date with a slab of brick," she said. Danny smiled.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" he asked. Aiden smirked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said back before letting him continue on to DNA.

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"Find anything, Stella?" Mac asked as he caught up with her on the way to the morgue.

"Other than a divine new scent… Not much. But I've only been through one bag. DNA is working on your piece of 'treasure'… but I've searched that garbage with a fine-toothed comb. Not a thing," she said, frustrated.

"You don't smell that bad," Mac commented. Stella gave him a level look.

"Your sweet talk is phenomenal," she told him. Mac shrugged.

"What can I say? It's an acquired smell," he deadpanned. The corner of Stella's mouth twitched.

"Has anyone told you that you should do stand-up?" she asked. He just shook his head.

"Chances are that blood will come back the victim's," Mac said, bringing them back to the case. Stella nodded as they turned to corner to the morgue.

"I just don't get it. That dump site was just way too clean. There's always something left behind," she said.

"Our search may not go through _where_ we found her or what we find there. It may just have to go through our victim," Mac said as he reached forward and opened the door for her. Stella smiled her thanks.

"I hate it when cases start off like this," she commented. Mac smiled back as he followed her into the room.

"They've got to start somewhere," he said back as they made their way to where Sheldon stood. The man gave Stella a look as she settled in front of him.

"I spend day in and day out with dead bodies… and my eyes are still watering from how you smell right now…" he said. Stella sighed.

"Okay, ha ha. You're funny. A real jokester. Now, enough with the yammering, start with the 'splainin'…" she said. Sheldon smiled as he drew the sheet down from over their victim's face – but it was fleeting as he was all business as the sheet settled.

"No identification as of yet, so cause of death for Jane Doe… loss of blood," the doctor informed them. Stella shook her head.

"I should have bet you on it," she said with a look at Mac. Sheldon held up his hand.

"But… not just from the obvious wound. There were two other wounds as well…" he continued, reaching down to lift the towel from the dead woman's stomach. There were two other stab wounds in her torso. One in the stomach and one in the chest.

"The fatal wound, though, was in the neck," Sheldon concluded.

"There are two stab wounds there, but neither deep enough to kill?" Stella asked, a frown on her face. The medical examiner shook his head in agreement with her statement.

"And the interesting thing… her throat was slit from the front by a right handed person due to the impressions of the cut."

"There goes our surprise theory," Mac said. "She knew her killer."

"Or she saw it coming," Stella added. Mac nodded at the point before she continued. "Two stab wounds and a slit throat as a final hurrah? The killer was playing with her… and since there was virtually no blood at the dump site, the killer also watched her bleed to death wherever she was attacked."

"Any evidence of sexual assault?" Mac asked. Sheldon handed a piece of paper to him.

"That was my next agenda item. The kit came back positive. Peri-mordem…"

"Oh good…" Stella scoffed with a hint of bitterness. "Just what we need. A sadistic, sociopathic rapist. As if the world doesn't have enough of those…" Mac handed the paper back to Sheldon and leaned against the table.

"Okay… what next?" he asked, looking at his partner.

"Dental records and garbage duty," Stella said. Then she smiled. "You're on garbage duty…"

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**A/N: Let me know what you think! I know it's a little short compared to my other posts… I'm aiming for an episode sort of feel here, so if it doesn't read like you were watching the show, let me know. I _hate_ to fail horribly at something, but that doesn't mean readers should suffer in silence!**


	4. 3

**A/N: Continued thanks for all the lovely reviews. Thanks for reading everyone!**

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Stella sat at the edge of the desk flipping through the pictures again. She grinned as Mac stepped into the office. He stopped and looked at her, waiting for whatever she was going to say. She didn't get that grin on her face without some accompanied ribbing. He'd known her long enough to recognize and accept it.

"Give up on the garbage already?" she asked. "Gives more proof that women are stronger than men, don't you think?" Mac rolled his eyes as he continued into his office.

"I gave that job to one of the newbies," he said.

"You trust a newbie with that?" she asked. Mac shrugged.

"I have a feeling that we won't find much of anything in there," he told her as he sat down behind his desk. "Besides, I'm having Danny check in on him once he finishes processing his vic's clothes." Stella sat back in her chair.

"So, do you think this was some sort of revenge thing?" she asked, tossing the pictures onto Mac's desk.

"Gain domination, rape, stab, then slit the throat when the party's over…" he stated matter-of-factly. "The brutality of it would indicate it was some sort of revenge. Either that or your initial thought was correct… Sadistic psychopath." Stella let out a sigh.

"I'm not sure what I'm hoping this to be," she commented. Mac leaned back away from the pictures.

"Revenge is easier to predict. And it leaves a better trail," he commented. Stella made a wry face.

"And neither is pretty. Okay, so I've got dental records running and the NYC Department of Motor Vehicles couldn't pull a match. Both are viable options until the national DMV database gets a hit or doesn't. I'm not holding my breath on dental records at this point," she said. Mac stood up.

"Neither am I," he said. She frowned.

"Where are you off to?"

"I'm going to take a page from Danny's book and take another look at the vic's clothes," he said. Stella's frown deepened.

"Green dress theory?" she asked. Mac held back a chuckle at his partner's usual candor.

"No. We already searched for biologicals. All we found was the vic's blood. _But_… we didn't focus on the other things that could be found on clothing," he said. Stella nodded.

"Maybe we can find the primary scene yet," she said.

"That's my thought," Mac said. Stella stood as well.

"Let's hop to it… anything's better than waiting," she said, leading the way out of the office.

* * *

"Find anything yet, Dan-o?" Aiden asked from the doorway of the trace lab. Danny looked up from his task and gave her a frown. 

"Don't ever call me that again," he warned her. The woman just smirked as she pulled up a stool and watched him go over every inch of the shirt he held. "How 'bout you? Anything on the bullet…" His pause caused her to let out a small laugh.

"Can't think of an annoying nickname to call me?" she asked. Danny shook his head.

"Don't you worry, I'll find something," he told her. Aiden laughed again.

"Right… anyway, the lab's trying to match the striations in the database right now. They're going to page me when they have results. How about you?" she asked. Danny's head nodded to the microscope.

"I found a small trace of a substance under the collar of the shirt. It wasn't much, but I'm trying to search out to see if there's a better sample. I'm not finding one. Could you take that sample and start processing it while I finish up the shirt?" he asked.

"You're going to owe me one," she said as she took the slide from under the microscope.

"I can think of worse people to be in debt to," he said, still focused on his job. Aiden smiled.

"Like who?" she asked.

"The bank… the mob… _Stella_…" he said with a smirk. Aiden chuckled as she took a q-tip from the holder and dabbed at the slide, getting the sample where it needed to be. She then took a test tube and cut the swab into it. Danny raised his head to watch her put the tube into the appropriate machine. Hopefully, he'd have an answer in a few short minutes.

"Do you think that sample will bring back anything conclusive?" Aiden asked as Danny stuck the shirt back into the brown paper evidence bag.

"I'd rather be fifty percent certain than have zippo," he said. "Right now, until we get your bullet back, we've only got a name to our victim. And according to Detective Vicaro, everyone that we can connect him to thinks he was an 'alright guy'."

"Even 'alright guys' end up dead, Danny," Aiden pointed out.

"I know. And usually, there's a reason behind it. I'm just not good at being patient," he said.

"Everyone in the lab knows that," she said. Danny gave her a 'very funny' look before he turned back to the printer, waiting for the printout. It only took a few moments. Danny took the paper and read the results.

"Lanolin?" he asked with a frown.

"What else?" Aiden asked, knowing that there had to be more to it than that.

"There was a slight reading of petroleum, but not much, which isn't surprising considering the size of our sample. The pH also reads near 7…" he said.

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head that uses those ingredients with that pH level," Aiden said with a frown of her own.

"So…" Danny started, turning to her. "Do you want to research this, or go check in on the newbie?" Aiden's eyebrow rose.

"You want to owe me two that badly?" she asked. Danny shrugged.

"What can I say? I'm a fool for debt," he said. Aiden looked at him strangely.

"I think you've been stuck in here for too long. But I'll let you suffer a little longer, I'll go check on the rookie," she said. He watched her departing form for a moment before taking a seat in front of the computer.

It took him a while of searching the Internet and the substance databases that the crime labs usually kept, but he finally hit pay dirt.

"Leather conditioner…" he muttered to himself, trying to figure out how that fit in. Then it hit him. The murder wasn't some sort of random killing. It was done in execution style, which explained the clean crime scene. No fingerprints, not a speck of DNA or blatant trace, and a bullet hole that, on any other day, could have been overlooked. Danny grinned at the fact that this killer was anal enough to care for his gloves, but not anal enough to wait until the conditioner had set in…

"Gotta love it when they make a mistake," his grin widened. He pulled the paper from the printer.

"So? The verdict?" Aiden's voice asked from the door. Danny turned.

"Ridleys brand leather conditioner. It's pretty high end…" he informed her. Aiden gave a pleased smile.

"That should narrow down the search significantly," she said. He nodded and was about to say something when Aiden's pager went off.

"The bullet calls," she said.

"I'll finish this up. And when you're done, we may have a few house calls to make," Danny said. Aiden nodded.

"Don't forget to check up on your newbie again yourself sometime. Mac'll have your head if you don't. How is Mac paying you for that, anyway? Hourly or a flat rate?" she asked with a grin. Danny rolled his eyes.

"You remember being babysat… there's no other way to learn," he said.

"Oh, yeah, I remember. But I got off easy… I had Stella watching my back," she said with a wink as she departed. Danny shook his head with a smile. He may have learned at the feet of the tough operator, but he learned from the best. Not that he was saying Stella was any less competent of a CSI. In fact, she was one of the best as well – it was why she was Mac Taylor's partner. But Mac was supervisor for a reason. And Danny certainly wasn't going to argue with being part of a team like that.

* * *

Stella sighed. She had a feeling that this case was going to take a while. She hated having those feelings. The longer it took to put a murderer behind bars, the more stressed everything else became. And stress, well… She loved and respected Mac to death, but when he was stressed he didn't talk. And Stella knew that if he didn't talk, he didn't sleep. A Mac who didn't sleep was a Mac who wasn't at the top of his game. He was brilliant whether or not he was, but she had a feeling he was going to have to be sharp for this case. She'd been having a lot of 'feelings' since she woke up this morning, and it was something that she was beginning to get annoyed with. Stella was never one to follow her 'gut'. She always methodical and always followed the evidence. And so far, the evidence was telling her… _Interesting things_, she thought as she looked over the report. 

"Hey Mac, take a look at this," Stella called to her partner. She handed him the piece of paper the printer had spit out.

"What is it?" he asked. Stella read the readout and then looked into the microscope again.

"It's a mixture of sawdust and varnish," she frowned as she stepped back and let Mac take a look at the sample.

"Brand?" he asked. She scoffed at him.

"I'm good, Mac, but not _that_ good. To narrow down the brand is going to take a little more time." Mac nodded.

"Time isn't exactly something we can ignore, though. If this guy's a repeat, he may have already chosen his next victim," he told her. Stella's eyes went wide and she immediately spun in her chair to the computer.

"_Why_ didn't I think of that?" she asked, typing furiously into the computer to tap into the New York Police Department database.

"Cold cases?" Mac asked, following her though process. Stella nodded.

"Yep. Whether or not this guy's a psychopath, killers usually stick to the same MO. If they don't, they have a tendency to panic and make mistakes," she murmured as she typed the appropriate words into the search areas. When she hit the enter key, the computer popped up a list of fifty or so unsolved cases with the same MO in the past fifteen years. It was actually a lower number than either CSI expected.

"I can go earlier, but at this point, I want to stay recent," she said. Mac leaned down next to her to get a closer look at the screen.

"Can you plot it out?" he asked. She hit a button and the screen went to an aerial shot of New York City. Another second later, all of the cases she'd found plotted themselves in the location that the bodies had been found. The plot was scattered all over the city, but there were five that caught Mac and Stella's attention. As the others were pretty much out of range, these five were fairly close together.

"The dates… they're all mid to late last year. No pattern to the dates, but they're too close together to be anything but connected," she said.

"But those bodies were found near High Bridge. Our DB was found in Long Island… Why would the killer vary so much?"

"Could be a variety of possibilities there. He could have killed spur of the moment, he could have killed at a different time in the day, he could have changed his dump site pattern, he could have _moved_… But… right now, this plot is the only lead we've got. It's worth a look. Flack can go question the detectives that were on the case and we can go take a look at the sites. Maybe, we'll find our connection there," she suggested. Mac nodded.

"Let's go then," he said. Stella smirked.

"You drive…"

* * *

"We got a hit off the bullet," Aiden said as she joined Danny. He looked up from the garbage and gave her a look that clearly said 'Thank God'. He threw down some unidentifiable object and stripped of the latex gloves. 

"I don't know what Mac's looking for, but I don't think he's going to find it," he said. Aiden surveyed the mess.

"Well, I think Mac knows he's not going to find anything. Otherwise, he'd be in here doing this himself… not siccing a newbie – or you – on it," she commented.

"Like we don't have a case of our own," he grumbled. "Anyway, what's your news?"

"The bullet came from a semi-automatic sniper's rifle…" she said. Danny frowned.

"A sniper's rifle?" It fit his hitman theory. "No wonder the guy had no left side of his face," he commented. Aiden nodded.

"And what we thought was a small caliber silencer burn was actually a rifle barrel burn," she said.

"Close range with a sniper's rifle. The bruising and the barrel burn prove it," Danny muttered.

"Not to mention it explains why the bullet was lodged so deep in the brick… Do you think there was a different target in mind and Mr. Ricardo surprised our killer?" Aiden asked, following Danny's train of thought towards a hired man.

"That would be the best theory we've got so far. And the evidence seems to support it. Did you get a match to the gun?" he asked. Aiden smiled.

"Of course," she said, handing him a list. "The bullet was fairly specific to a gun that was just recently released to commercial sale rather than just military use. There were eleven of them sold in the area after its release - the majority of themto police S.W.A.T units. Chances are our killer is on that list."

"S.W.A.T or not... and that's assuming our killer got his gun the legal way," Danny said.

"The eternal cynic?" Aiden asked. Danny smiled.

"We covered this earlier… _realist_… I'm a _realist_…" he said. "Well, let's get started on our suspects."

"I've already called Det. Vicaro. He's on his way to get warrants for the firearms," she said with a smile.

* * *

Stella's cell phone rang just as they'd pulled out of the parking lot for the trek to High Bridge. 

"Bonasera," she answered.

"Hot off the presses… your vic is one Whitney Patricia Howard, native of Crestone, Colorado. Mid-twenties, single, interior design student. Her roommate called her in as missing late last night and it went city-wide this morning," Flack's voice said. Stella could hear the busyness of the precinct that the detective was interrogating.

"That's great, Don. Do you have an address for the friend?" Stella asked.

"You'll want to head towards the Pratt Campus. The friend lives at 1100 St. James Place…" he told her. Stella nodded at Mac to pull over.

"I know where that is, it's my neighborhood. Meet us there," she told the detective. Her partner looked over at her sharply. Stella ignored the look and hung up her phone.

"Let's turn around. We have a hotter lead. Flack identified the vic for us," she told him.

"The victim's friend?" he asked. Stella nodded.

"Yep. Apparently, she called it in late last night," she said. Mac frowned.

"She called it in late last night, we found the body this morning, and Sheldon said the vic had been dead more than 24 hours…" he said. "The math doesn't add up…"

"For a roommate, no. Something's missing, but we'll find out when we get there," Stella said.

It took them a while to get there in the afternoon traffic, but Flack arrived just as they did.

"You did pretty well," Stella commented on his arrival time. Flack shrugged.

"Traffic by Yankee Stadium isn't so bad anymore since they lost the Series," he quipped. "But I bet it's a bitch in Boston…"

"And you were halfway here when you called," Stella grinned. Flack grinned back.

"Yeah, that too…" he said as he reached by Stella and rang their destination's buzzer.

"Who is it?" a feminine voice asked.

"NYPD ma'am. We're going to need to talk to you about Whitney Howard," the detective said into the intercom. There was a long pause. One that had the three of them looking between each other. And then finally, there was the unlocking buzz. Flack pulled the door open and Mac and Stella, field kits in hand, followed behind him.

The reached the third floor of the four story building and knocked on the apartment door. An attractive young female cautiously peered out the door as she opened it. Flack showed her the badge and Mac and Stella flashed their ID's.

"Are you Jennifer Lafferty?" Flack asked. The blond girl nodded as she opened the door wider for them to enter. Mac and Stella looked around the spacious living room area to see if there was anything eye catching or out of place. There was nothing they could see.

"You're here about Whitney?" she asked. "Have you found her?" Stella stepped forward and touched the girl's shoulder.

"We found her," Stella said gently. "We're so sorry. She's dead." Jennifer's hand came up to her mouth to cover the gasp that escaped. Tears quickly filled her eyes and a few spilled over.

"Was it an accident? Or… or…" the girl couldn't finish the thought.

"We think she was killed," Flack said. Jennifer swallowed and gave a single nod.

"Have you found who did it?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. That's why we are here," Mac said.

"Ms. Lafferty, when was the last time you saw Ms. Howard?" Flack asked. It took a few seconds for Jennifer to get control of her emotions.

"About two days ago. I sometimes stay over at my boyfriend's place. When I got home from work last night, there was a message from one of her instructors at Pratt saying she'd missed class the other day and a test…" the young woman swiped at a tear. "Whitney _never_ misses tests. She was serious about her interior design…"

"Did she have a boyfriend at all?" Stella asked. Jennifer shook her head.

"No. Not here in New York. She said she'd had a serious boyfriend back home in Colorado, but they'd split up. She came here and he ended up in Vegas. Whitney never talked about him," she said. "I can't believe she's dead."

"How about people from school? Was there anyone that she didn't get along with? Anyone that she could have met elsewhere?" Flack asked. Jennifer shook her head again.

"No. Whit was really serious about her studies. She was paying for school with her own hard earned money. She really wanted to succeed at this. Nightlife wasn't really an interest of hers," she said.

"Would you mind if we took a look around the place to see if there's any clues as to who would do this to her?" Mac asked. Jennifer waved a hand.

"Do whatever you need to catch the bastard that did that to her," she said before going over to her couch and collapsing on it. Mac and Stella looked at each other and then picked up their kits. They immediately went to the bedroom that had been Whitney's.

"Start with the luminol?" Stella asked. Mac nodded as he set down his kit and opened it. Stella shut the shades and put on her glasses as Mac started spraying the luminescent spray over the carpet and the top of the neatly made bed. Not a thing stood out as they waited for the tell-tale glow of certain biologicals. Stella blew out a breath, the curls jumping away from her forehead.

"Okay… I'll take the rest of the bed. You want the closet?" she asked.

"That's a plan," he said, going to the walk-in closet. Stella set to her task. As easy as it had sounded, the task itself wasn't. She had to do each piece of material separately and completely unmake the bed. Then, with Mac's help and the experience from a past case, she had the mattress turned over and tested that as well. Mac didn't have an easy job either. He had all the clothes and shoes to deal with along with the carpet. Both of them came up empty.

"Well, what next?" Stella asked as the two of them convened in the bedroom doorway.

"Let's take a look in the living room, get prints off the doors and check drains. If those come up empty, then we'll have to count this out as the primary scene. It's just too clean. Flack's interviewing neighbors. Until he's done, work the apartment," he said. Stella frowned and reached out to stop him from leaving.

"We found sawdust and varnish on her," she started, thoughts piecing themselves together. "She was an interior designer. Maybe it came from somewhere in the school, or even a client of some sort?" Mac nodded at the theory.

"That sounds probable. Let's finish here and follow those leads…" he said. She smiled at him and then followed him out of the room.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

**A/N: Forgive my forensics ineptness… if there's obvious, horrendous mistakes please let me know (or if you know technical names for things that I don't), but otherwise, let me live in my world of ignorance… :P**


	5. 4

**A/N… Here's the next part! Thanks so much for the confidence booster in my forensics abilities… Thanks also for those of you that gave me tips. I appreciate it so much! I hope this meets your expectations! Enjoy!**

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

The apartment was clean, much to Stella and Mac's frustration. They'd pulled up nothing one more time. Stella was about to hypothesize on the victim's class schedule when Mac's cell phone interrupted her. She watched the tense conversation in between packing up her kit. When Mac hung up, she straightened.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We've got another body… same M.O," Mac answered her solemnly. Stella frowned.

"Two bodies in two days? Did this guy have a binge or what?" she asked. Mac shook his head.

"I don't know. But we can't hold up this lead with our first vic, either. Which do you want? Body or school?" he asked. Stella gave him a look.

"Are you kidding? Body… I hated school," she said. Mac smiled with a nod.

"Sheldon will meet you at the scene. I'll hitch with Flack," he said. Stella nodded as she picked up her kit.

"Meet you in the middle," she said of the lab and walked to the door.

"Stell…" Mac's voice stopped her. She turned to look at him. There were worry creases in his forehead. "Be careful…" Stella held back her own frown and smiled instead.

"Hey… it's me," she said. But the fact that Mac had expressed his concern – in front of a witness and Flack, no less – made her a little bit uneasy. The feeling that this case had trouble written all over it was back with a vengeance.

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

"What's our destination now?" Danny asked. He was in the passenger seat once more. He never won the paper-rock-scissors game for the privilege of driving. He didn't know how, but he was pretty sure Aiden cheated.

"Vicaro got a warrant for the guns. He already bagged and tagged the SWAT bunch. They're waiting back at the lab. Now, we're off to check in on Joe Civilian," she said, turning down the appropriate street.

"Joe Civilian?" Danny asked with a laugh. Aiden ignored the jibe.

"Our fist stop is to a Reggie Whitman. An obvious gun-enthusiast… the man has an arsenal registered in his home, not to mention a lifetime membership to the NRA," she said.

"Should we wear vests?" Danny asked. Aiden smirked.

"Don't worry, I'll protect your scrawny butt," she said. Danny turned to look at her with surprise.

"You've been checking out my butt?" he asked slyly, returning her smirk. Aiden gave him a look as she brought the SUV to a stop and put it in park. They sat in front of a modest brick home. Danny sighed.

"This conversation is on pause because I really want that answer," he drawled out as he opened the door.

"Fat chance," Aiden replied. Danny smirked again.

"Denial is as good as affirmation," he told her, following her and Detective Vicaro up the pathway to the front door. The detective knocked on the door a few times. It took a little while, but a man finally pulled the door open. His eyes immediately checked Aiden over.

"NYPD, sir. We need to have a word with you," Vicaro stated. The tall man frowned as he looked to Vicaro.

"What's this all about?" he asked. Aiden held out the piece of paper with their request to him.

"Mr. Whitman, we have a warrant for your gun," she said, nodding to Vicaro and Danny standing behind her. Reggie Whitman held a hand over his heart.

"Ouch. Such hurtful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth," he said. Det. Vicaro and Danny shared a look. The detective looked amused, but Danny frowned.

"Hey buddy, we're here to do our job, not play 'Lamest Line'," he scolded. The other man chuckled as he looked at Aiden.

"Someone's feeling a little left out," he told her. Aiden arched a brow as she looked back at him.

"Doubt it," she commented coolly before indicating for him to lead the way. He opened the door to them and not-so-covertly gave Aiden another once-over as she walked by.

"Feisty," he commented. Danny frowned again as he, too, walked by the bulky man.

"We need to see whatever weapons you own, sir," Det. Vicaro said. Mr. Whitman frowned.

"What for?" he asked.

"A semi-automatic weapon matching the description of the one registered under your name was used in a murder the other day," the detective answered. Mr. Whitman looked among the three.

"You think I murdered someone?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh. Danny watched the guy and seriously doubted the man could pull off anything so elaborate. The stains on the front of Mr. Whitman's shirt told him that the man couldn't even get food to his mouth properly, let alone leave a crime scene nearly spotless.

"Actually, sir, we'd just like to eliminate your weapon from our list," Aiden said with a smile. Mr. Whitman shrugged as he nodded to the cabinet located behind the CSI.

"You keep a rifle like that out here?" Danny asked as he turned to look at the cabinet. Whitman shrugged again.

"I'm a collector. I occasionally take 'em out to the range, but otherwise, they're unloaded and the ammo locked away," he said. Aiden took a bottle of liquid and a q-tip out of her kit and looked up at Whitman.

"Have you been to the firing range recently?" she asked, taking hold of the gun that Danny handed to her. Whitman shook his head.

"I haven't fired that gun yet," he said. Aiden caught Danny's eye before she swabbed the barrel. The GSR test would soon tell her if he was telling the truth.

"We're still going to have to take the gun in for ballistics tests, just in case," she told the man as she stared at the still-clear q-tip.

"Be my guest…" he said. Aiden let out a small sigh as she stood up and gave Danny a look. The guy's quick and painless cooperation was quickly letting the air out of this lead. They could only hope that they'd have better luck at the next stop.

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

Stella heard the shouting as she stepped out of the SUV. She shut the door with a slam and disregarded her kit as she heard a string of explicatives that was rarely – if ever – heard at a scene. With a curious frown, she quickened her step and made her way around the awaiting coroner's van.

"… you think I'm going to let you take her and carve her up, you are seriously mistaken. You bastards are no better than the monster who did this to her!" an angry male voice was saying to Sheldon Hawkes. This time, Stella broke into a run as the man reached forward and gripped the medical examiner's collar. She reached the grappling pair just as another officer grabbed at the angry man. Stella reached out to put a stop to it, but was thrown back as a fist made contact with her jaw. Her eyes were wide as her fingers came up to check her face. No blood… but she watched silently as the man who had struck her was wrestled to the ground by the officer _and_ Sheldon.

"What are you doing? I didn't do anything! You need to find who did that to Caitlyn!" the angrily indignant man yelled, his cheek pressed against the cement as he was cuffed. Tears of anger and frustration mixed on his skin.

"You just attacked two of New York's finest, Mr. Crawford. You just won yourself a ticket downtown," the officer gritted out. Stella felt a hand on her should and turned to look at Sheldon.

"You alright, Stella?" he asked. She tested her jaw.

"My head almost became a maraca, but I'm fine. You?" she asked.

"Oh, I've had worse," the doctor said.

"What the hell was that about?" she asked, watching as the still-struggling man was put in the back of a squad car.

"Husband of the victim. Newly married. He found her in their apartment," he said. Stella frowned.

"In the apartment? That doesn't fit the pattern," she said. She looked to the gurney being brought out of the doorway.

"On preliminary examination, she died because of desanguination," he said. Stella lifted a brow.

"Carotid?" she asked. Sheldon nodded with a smile.

"Correct in one. And three more non-lethal wounds for her trouble. Plus, I can tell you with confidence that the kit will come back positive," he said. Stella nodded.

"Time of death?" she asked. Sheldon looked up from securing the gurney.

"Eight hours ago, give or take," he said.

"This morning?" she asked more to herself than anything. Looking at her watch, it was almost four o'clock. She'd been at the first crime scene when this murder happened.

"Looks like your killer is escalating," the doctor said. "It was more brutal this time, as well. A few defensive wounds, not to mention some well-placed blows…"

"Just the news I wanted to hear," Stella grumbled. She nodded to one of the officers and indicated for them to wait for her to get her kit. The medical examiner gave her a departing wave.

"Happy hunting," he called. Stella waved back.

"You too," she said before heading to the apartment complex door.

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

The sound of the two detectives' shoes echoed down the empty hallway of Pratt Institute's School of Interior Design. It was currently class time with only a few students milling about the hallway towards the dean's office. Mac reached out and knocked on the door.

A woman with a hairstyle that dated back to the mid-eighties opened the door. She looked to be about in her mid-to-late forties.

"Hello. I'm Detective Flack and this is Detective Taylor," Flack said, showing the woman his badge. She gave it a cursory look and then looked back at the two men with a smile.

"Rochelle Fletcher. How may I help you gentlemen?" she asked, reaching out to shake each man's hand.

"We are here to talk to you about Whitney Howard," Mac said. The dean took her seat behind her desk.

"Yes, I heard she was missing. One of her instructors expressed concern a day or so ago. Has she been found yet?" the woman asked.

"Yes she has. She's dead," Flack said. Ms. Fletcher's eyes went wide for a second.

"Oh my Lord…" she trailed off, sitting back in her chair. "I'm so sorry…" Flack gave Mac a look before taking the seat in front of the woman's desk.

"This instructor that expressed the concern over Miss Howard… could we get their name?" Mac asked. The woman thought for a second before she rummaged through a pile of papers. It took a few seconds, but she finally held one up and read through it quickly.

"It was her FD120 instructor," she informed them. "Patricia Rosenow…"

"FD? What does that mean?" Flack asked. Ms. Fletcher smiled.

"Floor design. It was the first year floor design class. We have three levels of that class to ready them for the student's capstone project in their fourth year," she explained.

"So, she was a first year student, then?" Flack asked. The dean pursed her lips in concentration as she pushed a few buttons on her computer. Her eyes scanned over the screen for a silent moment.

"Actually, no. Whitney was a second year student. She was taking mostly second year classes except for a few electives here and there. She was a very good student, almost straight 'A'," the dean said.

"Was there any particular student or campus personnel that she seemed to hang around with? Or any that she seemed to have any troubles with?" Flack asked. Ms. Fletcher let out a sigh.

"We have nearly 4000 students here, Detective. It would be impossible for me to know everyone by name," she said. Flack just gave her a smirk.

"Ms. Fletcher, I find it hard to believe that you don't know – at least peripherally - the few hundred students that are going through your program right now. Especially those that wheel and deal with one of your supposed top students. You aren't exactly NYU," he said. The woman gave him a humorless smile.

"I'm aware of that, Detective. But that still doesn't mean I am on a first name basis with all interior design students. If you want a better picture of a student's ins and outs, then you should probably talk to the professors that have that student in class for the current semester," she said. Mac leaned over the desk in order to cut off whatever sarcastic remark Flack had planned.

"Could we get a list of the professors that Miss Howard was currently taking classes with?" he asked. The woman typed a few things into her computer.

"I'll actually do you one better, Detective Taylor. I will print out her entire schedule for you," she said. "That way, you can speak to her previous professors as well…" The printer spit out a few pieces of paper. The dean took the sheets from the tray and looked them over, giving them an approving nod before handing them to Detective Flack.

"Thank you," Flack said.

"I only hope it can help you find whoever killed Whitney," she said sincerely.

"We can only hope too," Flack muttered, then looked up at her. "Thank you…" The two men exited the office and started to walk down the hallway. It was silent for a second or two before Flack finally couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I don't like her," he said. Mac smirked.

"I could tell…" Any further comment was cut off by his cell phone.

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

He watched. He never stopped watching. It was almost time. They'd found one body. They would soon find the second. And when that happened, it was time to throw off the scent. This would soon all be finished, and he would disappear into the mist once again.

O+O+O+O+O+O+O

**A/N: This is moving a little slower than I would like, but soon, it'll start to pick up the pace. It's been a hell of a week, but I still wrote a bit just for all of you! Please let me know what you think…**


	6. 5

**_A/N: Well… thanks for all the kind words. I appreciate all of your reviews. I've been a little out of it for the past week and a half, so please let me know if something doesn't make sense! This one will be Mac/Stella heavy since I feel like I haven't given them their due and they're my favorite pair. Enjoy the next part!_**

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

Stella was mid-way through processing the victim's bedroom carpet when she heard the apartment door slam and hurried steps echo on the hardwood floors. She paid no attention to the noise when she realized it was time for shift change for a few of the officers on the scene. Instead, she continued to swab the sectioned off carpet.

A startled squeak exited her mouth as a hand reached out and gripped her wrist, stopping it from lowering the q-tip to run over the next carpet section. Stella looked up into the frowning face of Mac Taylor as he crouched next to her.

"Jesus Christ, Mac. Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you…" she scolded, brushing her hair away from her face. He didn't say anything, just stood up. His grip on her wrist indicated that she should do the same. When she did, his hand touched the tip of her chin gently and moved her head side to side so he could take a look at the damage himself. Assured that her head was still intact, he dropped his hands and his icy blue eyes stared at her.

"What the hell were you thinking, Stella?" he asked. He already knew, of course. Stella always jumped into situations without really thinking of the consequences. It was what sent her commanding officer at the NYPD into the world of premature gray. She was probably going to do the same to Mac. Stella huffed, putting a hand on her hip.

"I was thinking that my co-worker - and friend - was getting the stuffing choked out of him," she answered. Mac's jaw tightened.

"You aren't NYPD anymore. Let them do their job. You are CSI. Do _your_ job," he said, harsher than he'd intended. Stella bit back the hurt at his unintentional jab. For some reason, Mac's concern always came out biting. And she knew it. So, she tried not to take it personally.

"I am doing my job," she said as diplomatically as possible. With that, she turned to dispose of the no longer sterile q-tip. Mac sighed as he watched her crouch down in front of her kit to grab a new one. There'd been a look on her face. A look he hated.

"Stella," he started. She didn't look up at him.

"I'm fine, Mac," she interrupted. "But I've been here for an hour and I haven't even gotten to the other rooms. I could use a hand…" With that, she looked up at him, her eyes staring into his. Mac nodded and she graced him with a small smile. It was an apology on both their parts.

Mac took over the areas outside the bedroom and it took them another full hour to get the apartment completely processed. The two of them met in the middle of the apartment. They both surveyed the brown bags of evidence with tired eyes.

"Well?" Stella asked. Mack looked at his watch. It was close to seven o'clock.

"We'll get all this back to the lab, process what we can immediately process, then call it a night," he said. Stella nodded.

"Maybe we can get a hit off of AFIS with the prints we found. The husband should be booked by now. We'll have his prints on file to eliminate him," she said. Mac looked over at her but bit his tongue at the reminder of what had happened earlier.

"Don't eliminate a suspect just because of a show of emotion," he chided. Stella gave him a look before closing her kit.

"Give me a _little_ credit, Mac," she said with a laugh. "Flack checked his alibi. He was at work, under the watchful eyes of surveillance cameras at West Side Credit Union at the time of the murder." Mac thought this over.

"One less person to worry about," he said.

"We should get back, though. Mr. Crawford should be released on bail soon if his lawyer is any good. We'll want to talk to him," she said, motioning to an officer for help with the evidence. She picked up and armful of bags and Mac mirrored her actions.

"Hopefully, we'll find something here," he said. Stella looked over her shoulder at him as they made their way down the stairs.

"What did you find at the school?" she asked.

"Whitney Howard's schedule. We'll go back there tomorrow and interview the instructors and take a look at the classrooms," he said. It was the next logical step and Stella nodded her head at it.

"Until then, let's see what we can get from Mr. Crawford," she said.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

Danny let out a sigh as he sat back from the comparison microscope. The bullet from the last gun was a no match. He and Aiden had been through all the guns given to them. Not one matched. They'd hit a dead end. He reached for the pile of papers sitting next to him and was about to look into the leather conditioner lead as Aiden entered the room with a somber look on her face.

"What's up?" he greeted.

"We've got another body," Aiden said. Danny sighed as he set down the lab report he knew wouldn't lead anywhere important.

"Good…" he said. Aiden looked at him strangely and Danny realized how he'd sounded. "I meant that as a 'maybe the killer left behind more clues than the last time' good…" Her eyebrow lifted.

"Let's go, Mr. Morbid," she said. Danny followed her out of the door.

"Can we quit with the nicknames, please?" he asked. Aiden threw a look over her shoulder.

"Sure…" she said. "Daniel…" He rolled his eyes.

"Oh my God. You enjoy being difficult, don't you?" he asked. Aiden shrugged.

"Why fight what I excel at?" she asked. "Plus, it's a bonus that it drives you nuts…" The two of them walked out to the awaiting Suburban. Aiden took the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the doors. Just as she was about to make her way to the driver's side, Danny snatched the keys from her hand.

"You may drive me crazy, but that's the only place you're driving me for a while," he said. Aiden smiled.

"By all means… drive…" she said. The way she said it almost had him handing the keys back to her, but after a second hesitation he caught on to her game. He gave her a look before going to open the driver's side door.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

"Detective Brass from the Las Vegas Police Department questioned Whitney Howard's ex-boyfriend – Paul Urlich. Brass said he bawled like a baby… but the guy had an airtight alibi," Flack said as he approached Mac and Stella outside the interrogation room.

"Another suspect eliminated," Stella muttered. Flack looked through the window at Mr. Crawford.

"Mr. Gold Gloves, here, just made bail. But we figured we'd let him sweat it out a little until you came to question him," the detective said. Stella gave him a smirk.

"I'm shocked at you…" she said. Flack grinned back.

"Yeah, well, just don't tell my mom. She still thinks I'm the 'good cop'…" he said. Stella chuckled, and even Mac cracked a small smile.

"Well…" she said, looking at Mac. "Let's go play good cop…" The two of them walked through the door and into the small interrogation room. Lance Crawford, newly married and newly a widow, sat dejectedly in the chair waiting for his questioning.

"I didn't kill her," the man said, looking up at the two detectives with earnest eyes. Mac and Stella shared a look.

"We never said you did," Stella answered him. Crawford shifted in his chair and put his head in his hands.

"It's what you think. It's why I'm still here," he said miserably, tears filling his eyes. It took a second or two, but the man regained control of his roller coaster emotions and looked back up at them.

"We know you didn't kill your wife, Mr. Crawford," Mac said as he sat down. "You were clocked in at work at the time of her death and we have you on video surveillance." Stella sat down next to her partner in front of the grieving widow.

"And we're even going to be gracious enough to not press charges for attacking our medical examiner," Stella said, brushing her hair back so that the forming bruise could stand out in the harsh interrogation room light. Mr. Crawford's eyes immediately went to the darkening area on her jaw and looked suitably shamed.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, his red-rimmed eyes memorizing the table in front of him. Mac leaned his elbows on the table.

"I understand lashing out in the heat of grief, Mr. Crawford. I've been there," he said, shocking his partner at the reference to his own painful loss. It wasn't often that he used anything personal to get through to the witness. That was usually Stella's tactic. Mac ignored her look. "But we have to move past that and we need to focus on catching the guy that did this…"

"I'm not sure how much help I'll be," the man said miserably. "I have no idea who would be this cruel to Caitlyn… or me…"

"Did your wife know a Whitney Howard at all, Mr. Crawford?" Mac asked. The man shook his head.

"Caitlyn never mentioned a Whitney Howard. I don't know one. We're fairly new to New York. We are… we were still trying to find our circle of friends," he said.

"Do you know what your wife's schedule was this morning?" Stella asked. Crawford shook his head as he leaned his elbows on the table as well.

"Not really. I go into work around 7:00am. She doesn't usually go in to work until 9:00am, or something like that. But she gets up when I get up. She said she liked the time to herself to get some things done around the apartment," he said, his voice going hoarse for a second.

"Where did she work?" Stella asked.

"She worked part-time at Worthington," he said. Stella nodded. She knew the store.

"Were there any co-workers she complained about? Any particular customers?" Stella prodded again. Crawford shook his head.

"No. Nothing that sticks out in my memory," he said. Mac and Stella looked at each other and conveyed their belief that they weren't going to get anything useful out of the man. Stella stood up.

"Thank you for trying, Mr. Crawford," she said. "If you do remember anything, no matter how small, make sure you let someone know so we can look further into it, okay?" Crawford stood as well and nodded at her question.

"Am I free to go?" he asked nervously. Mac nodded. When they were left alone in the small room, Stella turned to look at Mac.

"He certainly didn't know much," he said. Stella smiled.

"Nope. Not one thing to help. Let's go look at the evidence. That always tells us something," she said.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

_East bank of the __Hudson River__…_

"This is the only thing I hate about the job… it's almost quitting time and, bam… a floater in the Hudson," Aiden complained. Danny parked the SUV and looked over at her.

"A floater?" he asked with a grimace. Blood and dismemberment he could handle. Bodies that washed ashore, regardless of the stage of decomposition, made his stomach rebel. Floaters were never pretty.

"I can take the body by myself if you want," Aiden offered, knowing her partner's weakness. Danny shook his head as he swallowed hard.

"No, that's okay. Thanks. I'll work through the nausea," he said. Aiden chuckled.

"My hero," she said as they got their kits. From where they stood, they could see the tightly wrapped body waiting for them.

"It'd be a career breaker if we found Capone…" Danny grinned. Aiden snorted.

"If this is Capone, dinner's on me," she said. Danny shook his head, smile still on his face.

"See, you've been checking out my butt…" he said. Aiden groaned.

"You're a real Casanova, you know that?" she asked. Danny shrugged.

"It's actually the Messer charm… Casanova was on my mother's side," he told her as they approached the police officers. Aiden rolled her eyes.

"You wish…" she said. The officer in charge stepped up to meet the two CSIs.

"A jogger saw the body from the path. She called it in a half an hour ago. We haven't touched anything," the officer said. Aiden smiled.

"Thanks," she said. She and Danny approached the DB.

"How nice. It's gift-wrapped," Danny drawled, setting his kit down. The two of them pulled on latex gloves and crouched down next to the body.

"How do we want to do this?" he asked her. Aiden took a quick preliminary look over the material that enclosed the victim.

"You want to cut the rope? I can unwrap him," she said. Danny nodded gratefully. He wasn't so sure he wanted to be the one to discover what was under the sheet. He pulled out a box of plastic bags and a knife from his kit and went to what he assumed to be the victim's feet.

Aiden snapped the preliminary pictures and then gave him the nod to continue. Selecting a starting place, he carefully cut the robe that secured the white covering. He selected about two feet of the rope and cut the other section. Danny then marked each end with a letter so he could match them up in the lab later. Then, he put the section of rope in a plastic bag. He continued this process until all the rope had been removed.

The two CSIs stood over the body for a second, planning their next attack.

"Kinda reminds me of a mummy from those cheesy horror flicks," he commented.

"You know, we don't even know how this person was killed yet," Aiden noted. "This may be a wild goose chase…" Danny shrugged.

"If it is, we'll sign off on it. But the first body was a mistake. A failed execution. You find bodies like this, minus the Christmas bow, and we can assume it's connected until we prove otherwise," he said. Aiden shook her head.

"Imagine how many more bodies are at the bottom of that river…" she muttered.

"I'd prefer not to," he said.

"Was their a weight for the body?" Aiden asked the officer on scene.

"No, ma'am. We haven't found anything like that yet," he said. She nodded.

"Keep looking… this body wasn't meant to be found. So there's a reason it was," she said, kneeling down to find a place to start unraveling the sheet.

"Here goes," she said, finding a corner and starting to pull it back.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

_Trace lab…_

"So… we've gone through the fingerprints. Nothing. We've gone through the blood and trace. Nothing. We're going through the personal items and so far… zippo," Stella growled, digging through the papers in front of her. Mac knew she was ranting in frustration and let her do it without saying anything. He'd rather let her run out of steam than to step in the middle and get run over.

Instead, he continued running the ALS over the clothes he had laid out. He was hoping that the alternate lighting system would pull up something the killer left behind in his haste.

"Wait… a… minute…" Stella's voice caused him to look up. She was slowly pulling a single piece of paper from the box she had been going through.

"Hey, Mac. Look at this," Stella called, looking at the piece of paper closer. "We have a tie to our first vic…" Mac looked over her shoulder. He let out a breath at what he saw.

"A Pratt Institute class list," he said. Stella smiled.

"I'll bet if we find a schedule for her, we'll find something in common with Whitney Howard," she said.

"It looks like we'll have some more questions to ask tomorrow," Mac commented. Stella smiled.

"I think I may actually sleep well tonight," she said. A lab tech knocked on the door and interrupted them.

"I have the analysis on the piece of plastic you sent me, Detective Taylor," he said. Mac took the piece of paper from him and looked over it. His shoulders dropped in disappointment.

"What is it?" Stella asked, stepping next to him to look at the sheet.

"Nothing, really. The blood on the plastic was the victims. And the plastic was a piece from a standard Quality Park windowed envelope. Used by millions of businesses across the world, not to mention personal use. Nothing to trace at all," he said. Stella frowned.

"Do you think it was part of the primary scene, or do you think it was just coincidence?" she asked. Mac shrugged.

"We have no way to prove either," he said. Stella gave him the point.

"It's just that the piece you found was too small to be coincidental," she said.

"But it was found in the trash, Stella. It's circumstantial, at best. There's no way to connect it," he said. Stella shook her head.

"No way, Mac. We combed that garbage. I don't remember finding any envelopes, or pieces of envelopes," she said. "It may have to float around on the peripheral for now, but it's got to mean something." Mac gave her a doubtful look but didn't say anything.

"Besides," she said, turning to him with a smile. "You're the one that's always saying that everything's connected…" Mac rolled his eyes.

"There are always exceptions. Especially in miniscule details," he said. Stella snorted.

"You just don't want to admit I'm right," she smirked. Mac angled her a look from where he stood.

"When you're right, you'll know it," he said as he slipped off the lab coat. Stella mirrored his actions with a chuckle as they made their way out of the lab.

"I cannot wait to close my eyes…" Stella commented as they made their way to the locker rooms.

"The overtime gets its revenge," Mac said. Stella went to her locker and opened it.

"I think I have a love-hate relationship with overtime…" she said, looking at her watch. It was almost nine-thirty. Another fourteen hour day in the books.

"Most people do. When they want the extra hours, they love it. When they don't, they hate it," Mac said.

"You insight never ceases to amaze me… I may have to write that one down, Mac," she said with a smirk as she shut her locker. Mac just shook his head at her. Stella, ever the smart-ass.

"See ya tomorrow, Mac," she said.

"Goodnight," he called to her before she was out of earshot.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

_Early the next morning…_

The ringing of her cell phone woke her from a deep sleep. When she opened her eyes, Stella saw that the clock read just after seven o'clock. With a heavy hand, she reached to the bedside table and picked up the object making such an offending noise. The caller ID told her it was her boss.

"Mac… it's twenty minutes before I have to get up. Is this going to be habit?" she greeted.

"You mean you don't like hearing my voice this early in the morning?" he asked on a chuckle. Stella laughed in return.

"Mac, you're my boss, my partner, and my friend… you know I love you. But I don't want to hear _anyone's_ voice this early in the morning. Well… maybe Brad Pitt's," she said. Mac chuckled again.

"That's what dreams are for. Anyway… how soon can you get here?" he asked. Stella sat up in bed.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing serious. Mr. Crawford has just been brought in, though. I figured you'd want to be here for the questioning," he said.

"Crawford? Hell yeah. I'll be there in… well… give me a half an hour to get there," she said, jumping out of the bed and going to her closet.

"I can give you fifteen. Flack will have to start without us, then," he said.

"Great. See you in a few," she said before she hung up.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

_A half an hour later…_

"What's going on?" Mac asked as he and Stella approached Detective Flack. Flack nodded to the glass that Mr. Crawford sat behind.

"The department sent a few officers to the Crawford's apartment to return a few things and they found the antsy widow loading his car for an extended trip. They asked him if he wouldn't mind coming in for a few more questions and he volunteered his time." he told them. Mac frowned.

"Just as well. We've come across some new information last night that we'd like to talk to him about," he said.

"Have at it," Flack invited. Stella took the initiative and went to the door. Crawford looked up at the new arrivals with wary eyes.

"You _do_ think I killed her," he said suddenly. "It's why you brought me in, isn't it?"

"No, Mr. Crawford. We don't think _you_ killed her," Mac said. The other man sat back in his chair.

"So, where were you off to, Mr. Crawford?" Stella asked. She pulled out a chair and sat directly across from him. His fingers tapped slightly against the table.

"I was… I was going to see my sister, Renee. She lives in Fort Ann. I needed to get away from the city for a while. I needed to get away from the apartment," he said, his eyes on his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us that your wife took classes at the Pratt Institute?" Mac asked. Crawford frowned at the sudden change of subjects.

"I forgot. She wasn't taking classes regularly. She'd take one every now and then just for fun. She always liked to learn new things," he said folding his hands on the table and then thinking better of it and put them back in his lap.

"We need you to think, Mr. Crawford. Was there a person she would talk about at all? A fellow student? A professor?" Stella asked. Crawford shook his head.

"No. She rarely mentioned her class. We'd talk about it every now and then, but interior design wasn't something I really liked to talk at length about. That was her interest," he said. His eyes flicked between Mac and Stella, and then to Flack standing by the door. Then his face took on a pained expression. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could be more help… I feel like I'm wasting your time." Mac sat back in his chair. He observed the younger man in the silence for a moment. Crawford looked uncomfortably between the three people in front of him and the officer standing at the door. Mac tossed the manila folder he'd been holding onto the table, his eyes never leaving Crawford.

"Well, that's all the questions we have for you right now," he said. "Thanks for coming in and clearing this up for us…" Crawford nodded as he stood. Before he made it to the door, Stella stopped him.

"Could you give us the number of your sister's so that we can get a hold of you in case we have any more questions?" she asked with a smile. The man stopped.

"You can get a hold of me on my cell phone," he said.

"We'd appreciate it if you left that number for us," Mac said, nodding to the officer standing near the table. The officer took out a pad of paper and set in on the table. Crawford doubled back. The other three left the room as the man wrote down the information.

"Did he look nervous to you?" Stella asked the two men as they walked out into the hallway.

"He's looked nervous from the start," Flack said. "Not to mention the love tap could have been a boil over of nervous energy…" The detective looked to Mac, but the CSI was lost in thought as they continued down the hall.

"He says he is going upstate to see his sister…" Mac trailed off. Flack and Stella looked at each other then back at him.

"You don't believe him?" Stella asked. Mac didn't say one way or the other.

"Check into the sister. Then check bank accounts," he told Flack. The detective nodded but still had a frown.

"He had an alibi. He was not there when his wife died. Your forensics proved it," Flack pointed out. Mac nodded.

"I know. But that doesn't mean he didn't spend good money to get rid of a wife," he said. Flack shook his head.

"Ah, New York…" he muttered. Stella frowned.

"But the victim was raped, tortured and killed. That's a little personal to be a hired gun, don't you think?" she asked. Mac shrugged.

"It takes all kinds, Stell. Plus… we can't completely disregard Crawford's reaction. From all ends, it doesn't come off as an act. But it could simply be because the plan didn't go the way he wanted it to," he said. Stella's eyes lit up as she caught on to her partner's way of thinking.

"Simple kill. No mess," she concluded, starting off to the lab. "I'll check into debt and life insurance policies…"

"We've got Pratt. How is this connecting into the first case and the school?" Flack asked, genuinely confused at the new way of thinking. Stella stopped in her tracks and looked to Mac, her exuberance at the new path deflating slightly.

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it. Until then, let's work this until we prove or disprove it," he said. Stella threw him a departing smile before the three separated to do their jobs.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

Sheldon Hawkes leaned over the body with a look of interest. The body that Danny and Aiden had brought in had been killed with a single gunshot wound to the head. But that wasn't what interested him as he stood back and looked at the crime scene photos Aiden had taken of the body.

"What's the story, Doc?" Danny asked as he ventured into the morgue. Sheldon frowned as he looked back down at the body.

"Well… you're missing something," he said. Danny frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The doctor set the photo down in front of Danny.

"Take a look at the rope that was around the body. It was tight enough to leave post-mortem bruising," he said. Danny nodded. The doctor then indicated for him to step closer to the body. His gloved hand hovered over a line of bruising that ran across the dead man's upper torso.

"See that? That is the same sort of bruising the rope left on the rest of the body," he said. Then he pointed to the photo. "But there is _no_ rope in that area to cause bruising…" Danny frowned again.

"The rope could have moved over time," he said. Sheldon shook his head.

"No. The rope was simply too tight for that to happen," he said.

"Could it have been from a weight? To keep the body from floating away?" Danny asked. Sheldon shrugged.

"That would be a reasonable explanation," he said.

"But we didn't find any trace of what weighed the body down. Could the rope have broke?" he asked.

"It would leave the weight at the bottom of the river and cause the body to float downstream with the current…" Sheldon noted. "But from what I can tell… that rope is heavy duty nylon. It would take a lot of wear for it to simply break. Even under water." Danny nodded, knowing that this warranted further investigation.

"How long ago was he killed?" he asked. Sheldon smiled.

"My next order of business," he said, leaning back over the body. "State of decomp tells me that he's been dead for just under a month…"

"Cause of death?" Danny asked.

"Shot in the head. Died immediately," the doctor told him. And before Danny could say another word, Sheldon held up a hand to ward him off. Then, he held up a small bag containing the bullet. Danny grinned.

"You read my mind," he said.

"It's my second talent," Sheldon said back before Danny headed off to the ballistics lab.

**O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O**

**_A/N: You know what's frustrating? Losing your entire update… plus the update AND ending of another story because your computer is stupid. I almost pulled out all of my hair the other night when I realized that I couldn't get in to the update document. Talk about murderous rage… Thank god I was by myself! I think I'm going to boycott computers – except for posting – from here on out. Paper and pen… you are my God… :) N-E way… let me know how you like this update. It went down a completely different path in the re-write than what I originally had saved (it's also a lot longer!). I liked the other better, but if you all like this, it could grow on me… :)_**


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